Perfection is in the Eye of the Beholder
by AceOfHearts444
Summary: Merrill muses as she watches Isabela. What is it that makes her so perfect? One-Shot. Isabela/Merrill pairing.


**Authror's Note: **Oh dear, my first fanfiction ever O_o And I have another 474637829 ideas for fics so I'll probably be bombarding this site over the next few days. I would love to get some reviews if you all have the time :)

Anyway, this one's a small one shot for Isabela/Merrill. Established pairing, OTP, yuri, girl/girl, yadda yadda, on with the story :)

**Perfection is in the Eye of the Beholder**

Perfect is the only way that Merrill could describe her. It wasn't a traditional kind of perfect; not all silken gowns and radiant femininity. No elaborate hairstyles or pretty hairpins, and certainly no makeup applied with pinpoint accuracy by delicate fingertips.

Indeed, Isabela's hands were rough from years of rope burn as she climbed the riggings of her prized ship, her palms scarred from one to many close encounters with an enemy's blade. She had a scar at the base of her neck, too, that Merrill had never chosen to ask about.

The elf smiled as she dragged a slender fingertip along one of those very scars, as the sleeping figure next to her shifted. The pirate's eyes stirred, head lifting from a pool of dark curls. Hazy golden eyes met her green ones as she yawned out a "Good morning, kitten."

"Good morning, Isabela" Merrill replied in her usual overly excited tone, finger still lightly tracing that same scar on Isabela's palm.

Isabella chuckled softly. "That tickles, you know."

Merrill didn't answer her, she only leaned her chin against her hand as she continued her observation of her lover.

Isabela was beautiful, though not in an overly feminine way. Though she wore a hiked up skirt and had breasts and cleavage that made men and women alike fawn over her, she had strong thighs and arms that were a touch more muscular than most human women.

Merrill's finger had moved from her hand and was now stroking up and down Isabela's arm as she thought.

The other woman watched her curiously, one eyebrow raised slightly in amusement.

Then there was the fact that she preferred women to men, Merrill mused, and the boyish smirk she would give the waitresses in the Hanged Man as she complimented them on their "features". They would look shocked, at first, but after one wink from Isabela and a raise of her mug in their direction, they would succumb to her charms.

Even when Isabela had told Merrill of her nights at the Rose, right down to every dirty detail, most of them involved Isabela requesting "special services" that were aimed at male patrons. Their own lovemaking was apparent to this; Isabela was always in control. Always gentle with her, though she was always the dominant one. But she didn't mind, in fact Merrill liked it this way.

She finally broke this silence.

"You're not exactly feminine, are you?"

It was a clumsily formed sentence that flew out of her mouth so suddenly that she didn't have time to think about phrasing it properly. Isabela's eyes widened before she laughed. It was a warm laugh. Good, she hadn't offended her.

"Where on Earth did that come from? You don't think so, kitten?" With one swift movement, then, she had Merrill pinned down on the bed and was straddling her slender waist. She was looking down at her now, eyes slightly predatory, as if she was a rabbit caught in a trap and Isabela was the fox that had stumbled upon her. She continued, "Why? Is it because I always top you?"

Merrill grew flustered as she blushed all the way from as far down as her chin to the tips of her ears. "N, No... It's not because of that. Well, sort of. Well, come to think of it..." She struggled for words now, as Isabela stared down at her.

"I was just thinking, you know, that you're not at all like human historical figured that are portrayed as being perfect and beautiful. Not like Andraste, I mean she was a bit of a goody two-shoes wasn't she? All perfect skin and shining silver armour and long hair. And apparently she never swore."

Merrill paused, eyes wide as if waiting for a response from Isabela.

Isabela's lip twitched. She was trying so hard not to laugh, but Merrill was just too adorable when she was put on the spot like this. She'd have fun with her a little longer. "Go on."

"To think Andraste went into battle all those times and not even one blood stain on her armour. Humans always say the Orlesian women are beautiful and feminine, too. Apparantly if you wear a lot of makeup and have funny hair and wear dresses, you're considered beautiful by human standards. And, well, there are lot of other examples I've learned about from humans but I'll... Just get to the point, shall I?"

Isabela's expression hadn't changed, and still her predatory smile remained. "Please do."

Merrill knew Isabela was probably thinking about something dirty right now, so she'd try to make this quick. "Well, when I was watching you before, I was thinking about how perfect you actually are, to me. I think human society has too rigid a view on what's considered perfect or beautiful when it comes to women. Your hands aren't smooth, they're rough and scarred. They speak of sailing and battles and days of climbing up and down ropes and sometimes doing the job of twenty men all by yourself. Your body isn't soft or delicate at all; you radiate strength, and people look up to you for it, Isabela, including me. And you don't need to wear makeup or pretty clips in your hair to look so beautiful, it just comes so naturally to you. And... Well... You are perfect, in my eyes. Just the way you are. And I love you."

As those last three words fell from Merrill's lips, she turned her head away before she could see her lover's reaction. She knew saying that was probably a bad idea. After all, Isabela had told her that love is a weakness, that what she did was only skin deep and that she never got too involved.

After several moments passed, she expected a quip from Isabela, a laugh, anything... But then, as she was about to blurt out numerous apologies, she felt Isabela's fingertips touch her cheek, gently tilting her head back towards her. It was then Merrill noticed something strange.

Isabela stared back, a warm smile gracing her lips, the corner of her mouth quivering. Though as their eyes locked, Merrill could see the sadness, which was gathering in the corners of Isabela's eyes in the form of tears.

Merrill opened her mouth, intending to ask what was wrong, but suddenly Isabela's lips crashed down onto her own in a passionate kiss, dark curls falling down to brush against her neck.

She kissed back, and they remained that way for a while. When they parted, Isabela brought her mouth close to Merrill's ear, and, in a soft voice that she could barely hear, whispered "I love you too, kitten."


End file.
